


Your head on a plate

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, BAMF Greg Lestrade, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Happy Ending, M/M, Sherlock Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: - Tell me, Mr Lestrade, what would you be willing to do to get rid of your husband forever? You want your husband disappear, I want Mycroft Holmes' head on a silver platter.Greg narrowed his eyes- Anything. I'm willing to do anything to see him dead.There is no violence, just a severed head and a few blows.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sandwastesinthevoidofmychest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/gifts).



> The characters belong to Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss. This is the fault of Twitter, of Johanna who had a dream and of sandwastesinthevoidofmychest, who likes our kids to escape at sunset. And since they are the culprits, this story is for them.   
> English is not my first language, this was translated with Deepl, I am sorry for any mistake. Thanks for reading!

He left the water in the sink running so that the MI5 officer who had escorted him to the bathroom could hear him from outside, as he pulled out his mobile phone to read the message he had received.

'Congratulations, Mr Lestrade. You are a free man. And a very rich one.'

He sighed in relief, biting his lips to hide a small smile. He freshened his face, preparing himself mentally for what was to come next. He left the bathroom, walking to the office/bunker that had become a makeshift operation centre from which the search team was coordinated. He opened the door at the very moment when the office was filled with screams of horror and amazement, each of those present paralysed in a state of shock, while the large screen on the wall showed live images: in a dark basement, lit by the flashing lights of the lanterns, a silver tray rested on the floor. Above it lay, still surrounded by fresh blood, the severed head of her late husband, Mycroft Holmes.  
He hurried to the screen. She felt John move behind him, calling out to him in a troubled tone, intercepting it to move it away from the screen, his face, pale, reflected the horror and shock.  
With a calculated look around her, Greg hastened her breathing, preparing to play the role of grieving husband as Sherlock ran out of the office and Alicia shouted orders to the officers. Soon the body would be recovered and there was still work to be done.

****  
\- Three weeks earlier

Gregory Lestrade got out of the dark car, slamming the door. He looked the old abandoned warehouse, barely lit beyond the car's powerful headlights. The car had stopped near the only furniture adorning the room, an old wooden chair.  
Lestrade snorted in annoyance.  
\- What the hell is this about, Mycroft!   
\- I'm afraid there's been some confusion, Mr. Lestrade. Mr. Holmes will not be joining us tonight. If you'd be so kind as to take a seat...  
\- Did he send you? Tell him if he wants to talk to me, he can talk to my face.   
The voice of the man hiding in the gloom, distorted and unrecognisable by the echo, sounded annoyed by the interruption.  
\- Mr. Holmes did not send me, nor am I one of his lackeys. Now, if you would be so kind as to sit down...  
Greg looked at the silhouette of the name, the limousine and the chair. With a sigh of exhaustion he finally sat down, blinking slightly as the car's headlights blinded him.   
\- Thank you. I must admit you don't seem very intimidated, Detective Inspector Lestrade-Holmes.  
Greg snorted slightly.  
\- Let's just say it's not my first time in an abandoned warehouse.  
\- Yeah, so I've heard... I've heard a lot about you lately, actually.  
\- Have you? Well, people talk when they have nothing to do. Even when they have things to do, really. Who are you?   
\- Let's just say we have some mutual acquaintances.   
\- I know a lot of people. Now, if you can tell me what this is all about, I have things to do.  
\- Straight to the point, is it? I can see what Holmes saw in you. He doesn't scare easily. Pity that trouble has arisen in paradise...   
\- Is that why you brought me here, to share gossip about my private life?  
\- Oh, but this goes beyond office gossip.   
\- What do you want from me? Because if this is a kidnapping or an attempted bribe, I think you'll be disappointed  
\- Come on, there's no need to get defensive. The question here is not what I may want from you, but what I can do for you. After all, as I have said, we have common acquaintances and we could have a common goal. We could help each other, Mr. Lestrade Holmes.  
Greg tensed up, squinting.  
\- I prefer just Lestrade, really.  
\- I see. However, it can't go back to being just Lestrade. Not without losing everything, right? Mycroft has never been a good loser, and can be terribly vindictive, as you'll have seen. I can help you.  
\- Can you? How?  
\- Well, my power may not reach your husband's, but I'm not entirely without resources. You have a problem, and I can solve it. Tell me, Mr Lestrade, what would you be willing to do to get rid of your husband forever? Don't try to deny it, I know everything. I know those questions you've been asking. Quite compromising for a law enforcement officer, if I may say so. Don't worry, I'm not here to judge you. You want your husband disappear, I want Mycroft Holmes' head on a silver platter. We can help each other.

\- And if you have so much power, why don't you kill it yourself?   
\- I have power, yes. However, Mr. Holmes and his henchmen have a bad habit of always being one step ahead of me. Every attempt on his life has been neutralized, and now he's been off the radar for weeks, sneaking around like the snake that he is.  
\- And what does he want from me?  
\- A partnership. Let me take care of finding the person to do the job. You will discover and provide me with the location where your husband is hiding. Soon the Iceman will be dead, I will finally be able to do what this country needs and you will be a poor widower with more money than you ever dreamed of.  
\- Money? You think this is just about the money? Oh yes, of course I want it. I deserve it. I deserve every penny I can get out of that miserable rat. The damn Holmes family ruined my life, using me at their whim, has sunk my career and my reputation, has taken absolutely everything from me, has humiliated me, while he walks around as if he owns the world, because no one can oppose the almighty Mycroft Holmes. Of course I want him dead  
\- Well, we have a deal, then. Soon my man will contact you, and the world will be free from the plague that is the Iceman.

***  
Six months earlier.

The secret relationship between DC Gregory Lestrade and "minor government official" Mycroft Holmes had been arguably the worst-kept secret in all of London.  
It clearly had no relevance to public opinion. But when power in the shadows, the Iceman, the British government initiates a relationship with one of the country's best-known DI's, there are always gossipy agents and boring secretaries ready to spread the word, no matter how discreet they try to be.  
When that secret relationship ended up being a secret wedding, rumours were already circulating without any moderation.  
Few really gave a penny for that relationship, and many took it for granted that the DI was staying with the elder Holmes for money or that he was somehow being blackmailed by him.  
Rumours about the alleged infidelities of one or both partners were not long in coming.   
The strong 'friendship' that had seemed to develop between DI Lestrade, an avowed bisexual who had previously been married to a woman, and Mr Holmes's AP served to further fuel the comments.  
After it was shown that he was not as immune to feelings as he wanted to make out, or rather to carnal pleasures, why they were sure that the DI was just a toy with which the infamous Holmes warmed his bed, countless field agents, diplomats and politicians of all kinds came on to Mycroft, in a more or less brazen way, some offering to "spend some time together", others being willing to give him what he really needed and that a man like DI Lestrade, with a low social status and with a too flashy and often brusque behaviour, could never provide.  
Gregory Lestrade was also not lacking in people who suddenly found him interesting and in need of some attention that the cold and manipulative Holmes could never give him. They would keep the attractive DI entertained while they both took advantage of her insensitive husband's immense fortune.

So, when just a few months after the wedding the problems and disagreements between the couple began, it really wasn't a surprise.  
Not that they bothered to keep it a secret, and public disagreements became commonplace.   
Eventually, the DI left the marital home and they went through a tough divorce process, with lawsuits and cross accusations that those around them and who knew them witnessed with astonishment. Lestrade's career was subtly undermined, with his superiors putting him in the background in the belief that they would get on the Iceman's good side. Greg's lawyers counter-sued, asking for an astronomical sum for moral damages.  
The place where love and trust had once seemed to reign was transformed into a minefield.  
The abrupt break-up claimed another victim: Anthea, Mycroft's once faithful assistant, pretty and a bit absent-minded, was suddenly dismissed and had to be relocated to another position.   
Of course, the disagreements between the couple soon reached the ears of people who were keen to see Mycroft Holmes fall, who saw in Gregory Lestrade, the disenchanted, vengeful and angry government husband in the shadows a potential ally.  
***  
The funeral had gone smoothly. The shock not only for the death of Mycroft Holmes but of the way it had happened, kidnapped from a government safe house away from London and apparently beheaded by a Jihadist terrorist, was very evident there.  
Without removing the dark glasses that partly concealed his face, Greg received the condolences of his now deceased husband's co-workers with what many took to be a stoic attitude to grief. Those who were close to him and knew him well were solicitous and loving, convinced that the man was in shock. Although they had not had faith in their relationship when it began five years ago, the virulence of the break-up had surprised them, and now they were convinced that remorse would assail the kind and loyal DI at any moment.  
It wasn't until Mycroft's coffin was in the ground and most of the guests had left that Sherlock, who had been an active part of Mycroft's search and rescue team, lost his unflappable facade, lunging at his still brother-in-law.   
\- Bastard! I know it was you!  
It took the combined strength of Anthea, John, Anderson and Dimmock to pull him away from Gregory, who was watching him from the ground, with one eye swollen at high speed and blood dripping from his broken nose and split lips.  
\- Sherlock, stop!  
\- It was him, John! And it was my fault! Only three of us knew where Mycroft was hiding! He came to me, made me believe that he wanted to make things right, that he was worried about Mycroft and I like a fool believed him! I told him where he was, and now he's dead.  
\- Sherlock...  
\- No! I know it was him. And I'll prove it!  
With that, the consulting detective stormed off, his coat waving behind him un front the astonished and worried gaze of the assistants.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months later.  
John Watson got out of the taxi almost before it stopped, rushing to what had been the home of Mycroft Holmes, and which was now the home of his ¿friend? , DI Gregory Lestrade, wondering why Sherlock had called him here and praying that his friend had not committed any stupid acts.  
The months following the murder of the eldest Holmes had been crazy. Although he and Mycroft had never been particularly friendly, his murder came as a shock to him. The image of the seemingly untouchable man's severed head still haunted him in his dreams.  
Sherlock had not tired of telling everyone that Lestrade was behind his brother's death, looking for evidence and harassing the man until finally the DI had obtained a restraining order which had clearly been useless. John for his part had not believed it, trying to make him see his mistake. Now... Now he didn't know what to think. The coldness with which Greg had taken what had happened clashed with the image he had of the affectionate, kind and solicitous friend he knew.  
\- Well, here you are at last.  
\- Sherlock, what the hell are we doing here? Where's Greg?  
\- I think he'll be here soon.  
John followed Sherlock down the long corridor.  
\- Sherlock, for the last time, what are we doing here?  
\- Well, it seems pretty obvious, John, that we're waiting for Lestrade.  
\- Yes, but...  
John was interrupted when the sound of tyres indicated that someone had arrived on the property. Shortly afterwards the gate opened, making way for the DI. The man did not seem surprised to see them. He rolled his eyes, waving to John, who had come between them anticipating some sort of physical attack.  
\- Sherlock! You couldn't wait?  
\- No, of course not! Is that it?  
Greg flashed a quiet, happy smile, walking into the house and into the living room.  
\- Yes, that's it. Sir Edwin and the Secretary of Defence have been arrested. You should have seen their faces when they saw him appear.  
John looked at them alternately, blinking in confusion.  
\- Sir Edwin and the Secretary of...? What the hell are you talking about? I thought you had come to kill Greg! And why do you have dealings with the Secretary of Defence, Greg?  
Sherlock looked at John with an almost embarrassed expression. Greg gave him an apologetic smile.  
\- Don't worry, John, he'll be here soon and you'll understand everything, my friend.  
\- Who will arrive?  
\- I suppose that would be me.  
John turned to face Mycroft Holmes, who this time, unlike the last time he saw him, had his head on his shoulders. John opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to say a word, as he stared up at the resurrected British government with exorbitant eyes. As the doctor recovered from his stupor, Greg passed by him to wrap his arms around the neck of her husband, who did not hesitate to hug him back, wrapping his arms around her waist with a look of adoration on his face.  
\- Welcome home, darling.  
After a few seconds, Sherlock cleared his throat slightly, bringing them back to reality, although they did not separate completely.   
\- Yes, I'm sorry. Sir Edwin and the Secretary of Defence have been arrested and both they and their henchmen are being treated by our people. Thank you, brother.  
\- Wait a minute, is someone going to explain to me what's going on here? You're supposed to be dead! And you're supposed to have got him killed, Greg! And you're supposed to want Greg dead, Sherlock!  
\- I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything, but you had to believe it. - said Greg.  
\- After Sherrinford, while we were all busy rebuilding our lives, me trying to save my sister, my parents trying to get their daughter back and Mycroft's bosses trying to get the clandestine prison back to normal, Mycroft started to think about an idea. How could Eurus have had access to the grenades he'd just authorised the Ministry of Defence to buy? Yes, she had taken control of the prison, but no one in Sherrinford had access to the ministry, let alone the government's arsenal of weapons. So the only logical conclusion is that someone other than the prison governor had had access to Eurus. Someone from inside the government. Unfortunately, no evidence of this could be found. And meanwhile, there were three attempts on Mycroft's life shortly after his marriage to Lestrade. None of them very elaborate, all of them easily neutralised. But it was clear that someone was trying to get my annoying older brother out of the way. Something I can understand, but not share or allow, as you will understand. Sentiment and such nonsense.  
Mycroft chuckled amusingly before continuing.  
\- First we needed Greg not to be a target for my enemies, a way to get to me. My parents were upset by my lie, and my brother had been willing to shoot me to save you, John, so the person most likely to be used against me, the person they would go after to hurt me, would be Greg. It would have been easy before, I would have just walked away from him, and they would have lost interest, thinking that I didn't care, but...  
Greg snorted, annoyed, with one of his hands caressing absently her husband's neck, just at the height at which it was supposed to have been cut.  
\- As if I'd let you.   
Mycroft smiled, placing his hand over his, reassuringly.  
\- After the wedding, that was impossible. So the most convenient way to do it was to make Greg his ally. We needed them to come after me how and when we wanted them to. Not before. It was easy to set the hook. We created a big charade, using the rumours that had been made up about us to our advantage, and started fighting in public, pretending that we had become enemies. So Greg went from being a target to being a key part of my enemies' plans, the spiteful and vengeful husband who would do anything to get rid of his insufferable and selfish husband, who was unreachable after the third failed assassination attempt. Word spread that Gregory had been asking about contract killers. The rumours reached the right people. Obviously they saw it as a great opportunity to eliminate me. They had the killers and Greg had the possibility of knowing where I was. The assassin they sent was dead before they realized what was going on.  
\- But, the dead body, the severed head... Oh, Molly!  
\- In Miss Hooper's defence I will say that Mr. Forrester had donated his body to science.  
\- But...  
\- It was a perfect reconstruction of her face, wasn't it? Although my brother made me put more hair on the cut head than he actually has, vain that he is. I don't know how they didn't realize it wasn't him. As I always say, people see but do not observe.  
\- Sherlock... So, although we had Mycroft "dead" and myself safe, we still had to find out who the man behind the plan was. Mycroft was suspicious of Sir Edwin, but he doubted that he would have dared to do anything on his own. Only Anthea and some of Mycroft's trusted subordinates knew what was going on and they kept us up to date about what was going on in the bowels of government.   
\- You fired Anthea.  
\- Yes. And just twenty-four hours later Sir Edwin made her his employee, just like we wanted, sorting out trivialities about me while she was getting invaluable information about Sir Edwin and his dirty business. She has always been underestimated, they thinking that I carry her around with me only because she is a pretty face to distract the adversary with. This is a big mistake. After my death we needed them to be nervous, for Sherlock to stir up the hornet's nest and see what came out.  
\- Hence the beating at the cemetery.  
\- Exactly, we needed them to see that he wouldn't give up, that they couldn't relax.  
\- Although frankly, Sherlock, you didn't need to hit him so hard.  
Greg smiled at his husband's protective attitude as Sherlock snorted.  
\- He had just had my older brother killed! Of course I had to hit him hard!  
\- Well, the fact is that during these months of harassment Sir Edwin made the mistake of coming on to me. I wanted to see how he was doing, if the pressure would get to me. His ego got the better of him, I imagine, he wanted me to know that he was the one to whom I owed my good fortune, and finally he ended up confessing that he was the man who had helped me "get rid" of Mycroft, with the help of a very powerful ally. A few days ago, after gathering all the information about their dirty business and abuses of power, I told him that I couldn't take it anymore, and that I wanted to talk to his boss to get out of the country, or have Sherlock eliminated. They couldn't kill me, or Sherlock, without Mycroft's co-workers and his superiors suspecting foul play, so finally the defence secretary received me today, in the same abandoned warehouse where I first spoke to Sir Edwin. They and their entire team have been arrested.  
John looked at them for a few minutes, before shaking his head in disbelief.  
\- Then it was all a lie, your fights, your separation... I really thought you hated each other!  
\- Every fight was elaborately constructed, always with witnesses that would make the story grow. It wasn't easy, but we had to do it. - The evening light came in through the large windows, and Mycroft's face showed an exhaustion that John hadn't noticed before. Greg leaned his forehead against his husband's, smiling as he hadn't done in months. The last rays of the sun plucked out flashes of silver and copper over their heads, giving them an ethereal aura. After a moment of silent communication, Mycroft outlined his usual sarcastic smile - and as I once said, John, I was a great Lady Bracknell once. I'm a great actor.  
Greg gave him an affectionate push, laughing.  
\- Hey, I was a great Ernesto once too. My performance was considered one of the ten best in the history of the institute.  
Mycroft smiled fondly at him, giving him a little kiss on the forehead.  
\- Of course, honey, you're a great actor.  
\- Y?  
\- And a great friend - he left another kiss on his left cheekbone.  
\- Y?  
\- And a great husband - Mycroft gave her another kiss on her right cheek  
\- Y?  
Mycroft's voice was almost a whisper, a big smile adorning his face, kissing his lips with sweetness.  
\- And I missed you so much  
Sherlock snorted at what he wanted to look like an annoying expression, only slightly marred by the small smile that adorned his lips.  
\- Okay, enough, there are things I don't need to see. Let's go John.  
After a last look at the couple, who already seemed to have forgotten his presence, John followed his friend, mumbling between annoyed and happy.  
\- And that's it!? Why the hell doesn't anyone never ever tell me anything until it's all over?  
Mycroft's laughter echoed through the room.  
\- Come on, Dr. Watson, there's no need to get upset. I promise you that if my parents have a fourth child whose death has to be faked, you'll be the first to know. Lock up on your way out, please, Sherlock.  
Greg's laughter joined that of her husband before kissing him again, unable to let go yet.   
\- I have missed you so much...  
\- And I you. I'm sorry, Greg, I'm sorry I put you through all this, I...  
\- It's okay. I got into this. We had to do it. You're safe, and you're home. That's all that matters. It's over, isn't it?  
\- For them it is. For us it's just beginning.


End file.
